I know I should be working on my novel, but mehn. I'll get around to it, you know, eventually. (Actually I probably will too. I figure at this point I have enough half-started novels (current count: three) to actually maybe cobble together a half-assed (at best) whole volume. That's kind of exciting in its own way.)

Anyway, so today in the shower (because, as we all know, I do some of my best thinking in the shower...) I was thinking how weirdly physical my mental state can be. By which I mean that my mental state has very obvious physical flags. Take, for example, today. I got something like 4 hours of sleep last night, yet have been energetic and peppy and productive all day today. Moreso than in the past month, I'd say. All this because I finally felt great about getting the applications for Ontario out of the way.

(Aha, yes. Let's ask *why* I only got four hours of sleep last night? Is it because I was up till 12:30 cobbling together wordy essays about why I would be a great teacher, then up until about 2 doing the victory dance and generally revelling in my jubilation? Is it because I woke up at the cracka cracka dawn to haul ass to the local FedEx to get my shit mailed off? Umm, yeah. Maybe just a little. It's a good thing they didn't ask to discuss my organizational skills on that application. I mean, if I'm pulling stuff together for other people, I'm generally okay. Ask me to take charge of my own life, however, and... well... two in the morning dancing? Yeah.)

In other news, all the verbiage that should be directed towards my novel in a last-ditch attempt to ring in (ring out?) with a respectable wordcount? Seems to have been directed towards emails, letters, etc. It's not a bad thing at all. I broke out the ink that I bought way back (read: February) when I went to BC, and that was good. Wrote one of my references a thank-you note (in turquoise ink!) and handed that off tonight, and after two more quick emails, I'll have scratched everything for the day off my list. I've only got one more thing to do (other than pack) before I leave, and I'm pretty sure I can swing that by the end of the work day tomorrow. I love it when my ends are all tidy and tied up.

...but that's somewhat deceptive, implying that all is sunshine and posies. It's not, really. It's last-minute details, and the half-stress, half-high rush that usually powers me through the last month of term (when in school) and apparently accompanies any kind of real deadline (when not in school). It's feeling a weird sort of independence when I realize that I'm okay without reassuring phone calls and emails, and feeling a dense ball of... emotion, I guess, sitting somewhere under my ribs. I don't know what it is. It's shifting, moody, unresolved. In its current phase, it looks a lot like resentment. If I bothered to give my emotions proper words these days, they would say something like,

Dear Now-Ex-Boyfriend,
Please listen and stop with the topical chit-chat for a second. Stop probing for my reactions, and asking about things you knew I was working on. Just stop. You lost the right to know what's going on in my life the minute you declared that there was no spark, no romantic interest, as soon as you just didn't see us together.
I won't stop you from writing me about what's going on in your life, but I am in no way obliged to validate any of it by responding with feedback and in-depth snapshots of how I feel about all of it.
I asked for time to not-talk, to not-chatter, time to basically forget that you exist, and remember who I am when I'm by myself again. Right now, I don't want to remember you, or worry about you, or share what I think or feel with you. I don't know what you thought breaking up meant, but for me it means removing all the bits of you that I'd so happily invited into my being just a little while ago.
Don't get all defensive. I'm not building a wall; I'm just settling myself back into my own orbit, out of the twin one we used to share. When I'm done, I'll let you know.
Truly,
lilephyte's internal emo cyclone

Through all of this though, as I analyse the pieces, frame some of them in words, and basically wander through the mess of everything, I wonder how much of it mirrors what Jiyuu felt/still feels. I wonder if he finds it hypocritical, or maybe kind of a relief to know that I can relate. I wonder sometimes if any of my rantage and thinking-out-loud will make him decide that friendship isn't worth the effort for us.

It's a strange place to be in, seeing everything from two sides (or trying to, anyway). I do wonder how both stories will turn out.

In the meantime, however, I've got a bag of marshmallows calling out to me, and a novel to hack away at...